


vandalism

by netflxaddict



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netflxaddict/pseuds/netflxaddict
Summary: You're a cop, he's the co-owner of a local locksmith shop. A sudden rash of break-ins keeps bringing you to his store.
Relationships: Wolfgang Bogdanow/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	vandalism

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic so please be kind :') feedback is welcome!

You had arrived at the crime scene fifteen minutes after the call was made. It was early in the morning and the whole rest of the city was just slowly starting to wake up.

"You said nothing was taken," Vilmar stated as he flipped through his notebook to find an empty page. He was your overly protective middle-aged partner. Short, round and balding — the manifestation of every lazy cop of every comedy ever. He loved taking notes, even though the pad mostly consisted of random doodles he made during breaks.

The owner, a lanky 20-something named Felix Berner, nodded, "That's right, officer." He was standing behind the counter, carefully watching you both as you wandered around the shop.

"What do you think, Y/L/N?" Vilmar asked. You hadn't said a word since you had entered the building.

"Vandalism."

"Vandalism?"

"There have been a few similar cases in the neighborhood," you explained, "smashed windows, graffiti on the pavement, no signs of robbery…"

Suddenly the shattered door blew open, and a man stepped inside. He was about the same height as Felix but much sturdier. Short, dirty blonde hair, a stubble lining his strong, ridiculously well-defined jaw, and eyes of that beautifully common shade of blue.

Dressed in all-black, wearing that mysteriously grim yet compelling expression, he stirred up your interest. You watched as he walked towards the counter with firm, vigorous steps, and a smell of his musky cologne mixed with sweat and tobacco floated through your nose.

"Excuse me." Vilmar's voice yanked you out of your head and you cleared your throat, embarrassed. "Who are you?"

"This is Wolfgang," Felix introduced, "he's the co-owner of this shop but most importantly, my very best friend."

"So did they take anything?" Wolfgang asked, completely ignoring you and Vilmar, making you feel invisible.

"Nothing."

Wolfgang fell quiet for a second. He looked around, his brows slightly frowning.

"Vandals," he then said.

You twitched at the word and turned your gaze at him. "How can you tell?"

"The windows were smashed but nothing was taken? Probably just some bored kids looking to get in trouble," he said, playing with his car keys. Then he raised his head and your eyes were finally met with his downturned ones. "Seems quite obvious, don't you think, officer?"

You felt your cheeks redden. What was it about this sullen man that made you feel so shamefully desperate?

"We're sorry about your windows, but there isn't really anything we can do," Vilmar interrupted your thoughts once again.

"What about us? Is there anything we can do?"

"Surveillance camera," you and Wolfgang replied simultaneously.

You glanced at each other. He smiled.

"We'll get one," Felix said, "thank you."

Vilmar bobbed his head and stuffed his notepad to his pocket. "Let's go, Y/L/N."

You waited until he had returned to the car, and dug out your business card, something you had never done before. You handed it to Felix.

"If you see or hear anything suspicious, give me a call."

Even though you were dying to, you didn't turn to give Wolfgang one final look. He didn't need to know how crazy he had made you — especially since to him you had been just another  _ bulle _ .

* * *

A week later you and Vilmar were sitting in the car parked outside your favorite coffee shop when his radio crackled. There had been another attack at Felix's shop.

"Time to see your boyfriend," Vilmar smiled as you started the car.

"Don't even," you huffed. Ever since he had found out you gave Felix your number, Vilmar hadn't shut up about it. Of course you had wanted to tell him that the number wasn't really so much for Felix as it was for Wolfgang, but what difference would it have made, really? No one had called and now you had to go back there looking like a fool.

  
  


This time, the door lock had been picked open but again, nothing was taken.

You were suspicious. It seemed unrealistic that the vandal — quite possibly a rebellious youngster as Wolfgang had suggested — would’ve gone through all that trouble just for the fun of it. Or that they would’ve even had the skill to do so. Something didn’t add up.

“I see you didn’t invest in those surveillance cameras like we suggested,” you said.

“Didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to come back.” Wolfgang shrugged.

He was sitting on the counter scrupulously examining every inch of your tensed up body, biting his lower lip. You couldn't tell if he was judging you or just admiring your figure. Whatever it was, it made you uneasy. Not uncomfortable or exposed — not in the bad sense anyway.

You swallowed hard. The things you would’ve done if this had been just another one of your wildest fantasies...

“So you think the perpetrator was the same as before?” Vilmar too sounded skeptical as he read from his notes from your previous visit. “'Some bored kids looking to get in trouble'?”

Wolfgang sighed and hopped off the desk. “That’s just my opinion. You’re the detectives here.”

“Well, without the surveillance footage we’re pretty much in the same situation than the last time,” you snorted, “but if the same person really is behind this, it’s very likely they’ll strike again.”

“Copy that, officer.”

You rolled your eyes. “Where’s your friend?”

“Damsel in distress,” he grinned. “Wanna leave him a message? He loves to hear from serious, sexy women."

The compliment caught you off guard. All this time you had thought he was making fun of you, and now he was calling you sexy? Or was that just something Felix had said? Or was it just another joke? You took a deep breath. The man really was impossible to read.

"You can tell him to give us a call if this happens again. He knows the number," you said, "and get the damn cameras. I wanna catch those brats."

* * *

When you hadn't heard from either Felix or Wolfgang for another week, you thought they'd finally been left alone. A part of you was disappointed. It wasn’t as if you'd been hoping for some miraculous happy ending, but nothing? You felt betrayed. 

Then, two and a half weeks after the first attack, a phone call came.

"Y/N," you answered. 

"Is this the sexy cop?" It was Wolfgang. You felt your heart somersault in your chest.

"Was there another attack?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Come see for yourself." Then he hung up.

You stared at your phone, abashed. If any other person had been as mysterious, you would've just simply ignored them. You didn't have time for games. And more importantly, you didn't have the energy.

As you got in the car, you cursed the day you met Wolfgang Bogdanow.

  
  


You hadn't told him it was your day-off. Partly because you didn't think it was important, but mostly because you hadn't wanted him to stop you from coming. This could've been your only opportunity to show him this side of yourself; bold and sexy with a dress shorter than it had a right to be and heels higher than a cop should've been wearing — there was no way you were going to waste it.

Once you had arrived, you noticed the smashed door window. Weird, you thought, starting to wonder if the perpetrator really had been the same each time after all.

Feeling nonplussed, you walked inside, your heels clopping softly against the floor. Wolfgang was waiting for you by the door.

"Hello, officer," he said with a smirk. "That's one hell of a uniform."

You didn't want to let him know what his words really did to you, so you just looked around. You were alone.

"Let me guess, they didn't steal anything."

"You're right. But this time we caught him on tape."

"Did you recognize him?" You were surprised, to say the least. You had been waiting for some unexpected turn of events but apparently, the case was solved.

"Oh, I've known him for years."

"Mind if I see it?"

He shook his head and led you to the backroom. He sat down on the desk chair and logged in to the computer.

You leaned in — just to get a better look, you told yourself. He didn’t seem to mind so you let yourself relax. The overwhelming smell of cologne and cigarettes took over your brain like a disease, and you had to grab a hold of the desk for support.

"Here it is."

Wolfgang had rewound the tape to last night — to precisely 10.36 p.m., according to the time stamp on the bottom left corner. He pressed play.

A man in a black leather jacket approached the shop. Just outside the door he finally stopped, glanced quickly around and threw the brick in his hand through the window. You squinted your eyes, trying to memorize as many details as possible. He was blonde, average-height, robust. At least on his late 20s—

Suddenly the man turned his gaze directly to the camera. Your eyes widened. 

"I-I don't understand."

Wolfgang was staring straight at you from the computer screen with a wide grin on his face.

"Well, I had to do something to get your attention, didn't I?"

"So you... smashed the window just to get my attention?"

"I thought you would've suspected something when the door was picked open, but when you didn't…"

You couldn't believe it. It was crazy. He was crazy. It was by far the stupidest, most ridiculous, _sexy_ thing anyone had ever done for you.

"You know, I could arrest you for this," you finally said.

He looked up at you and, not missing a beat, replied, "Then cuff me, officer."


End file.
